


baby, when it's love, if it's not rough it isn't fun

by coupe_de_foudre



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, First Kiss, M/M, Partners to Lovers, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Tension, idk okay i scrolled the tim gutterson tag too long, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23597515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coupe_de_foudre/pseuds/coupe_de_foudre
Summary: “I’m gonna kill him.” Hoosier grumbles, slamming the precinct fridge shut behind him.“He ain’t that bad.”“Oh, sure. You don’t have to work with him.”
Relationships: Robert Leckie/Bill "Hoosier" Smith
Kudos: 17





	baby, when it's love, if it's not rough it isn't fun

**Author's Note:**

> I have nobody to blame for this apart from my mind at 2am when I decided to write a summary of this in all caps because apparently I thought it was a good idea? It's nowhere near as good as I imagined but hey...what can ya do?

“I’m gonna kill him.” Hoosier grumbles, slamming the precinct fridge shut behind him. Runner laughs, sat at one of the break room tables with a pathetic chicken sandwich.

“He ain’t that bad.”

Hoosier rolls his eyes, practically throwing the carton of milk onto the counter – that fucker had done it again; leaving the last dregs and putting it back in the fridge without telling anyone they’re running low. He’ll have to pick some up on his round today.

“Oh, sure. You don’t have to work with him.”

Runner points his fork at him, “You know, _you_ don’t technically have to either. You could also go to Puller. Sure he’ll sort you out-” he chews on another mouthful of salad before smirking, “-with enough begging, of course.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Hoosier leans back against the counter as he waits for the coffee to brew. “I don’t beg.”

“’m sure I could get ya down on ya knees.” Chuckler joins them, shooting Hoosier a wink.

Hoosier scoffs, but his smile betrays him. “You wish, Lew.”

Chuckler slides up behind him as he turns to pour his coffee, wrapping arms around his waist and resting his chin on Hoosier’s shoulder. It’s an awkward position, considering the older man is a solid six inches taller than him. “I know I could have you if I wanted.” Chuckler murmurs into his ear, smug smirk showing through his voice.

He’s not wrong and they both know it. There had been that one time at the Christmas party a couple of years back, but it had been a one-off. He’s known Chuckler for years now, they’ve always had a funny connection made up of insults and slightly-too-real flirtatious comments – combined, it can leave people rather confused when they first meet them.

“You know it, baby.” Hoosier purrs, twisting to plant a wet kiss over the stubble on Chuckler’s jaw. Chuckler smiles, squeezing his ass before pulling away.

There’s a gagging sound from across the room; Runner is pretending to stick his fingers down his throat with a groan. “Not when I’m eating!”

“Sorry, man.” Hoosier laughs. He slides his used teaspoon across the counter, happy when it stops just by the sink. Taking his mug, he heads out of the room, not before ruffling Runner’s hair with a devilish grin. “Enjoy the rest of your leaves.”

“It’s called being healthy!” Runner shouts after him. Hoosier flips him off without turning back. “You should try it sometime!”

The engine runs, a quiet reminder of the task at hand (watch out for speeders), while they sit in the vehicle. Dinner is long gone and Hoosier tries to channel enough energy to stop his stomach from rumbling too loudly. He has a snack bar shoved somewhere, but he hasn’t yet reached that point of desperation.

“-and then she tried to tell me that I was wrong! Me? Wrong. About sports. Like that’s even a possibility, I mean-”

“Please shut up.” Hoosier groans, banging his head on the window to his left. Leckie, to his credit, does finally stop rambling. Hoosier sighs, eyes trained on the highway, as he relishes in the little bit of quiet. That man has no idea how to stay silent.

Really, Hoosier should be used to it; his last partner had been a lot worse when it came down to pointless ramblings. Luckily for Ray, his rants had usually had some sense behind them – not to others, but Hoosier often found them interesting – so he’d let him talk for hours when they were on duty. Hoosier actually learnt a lot of random facts, thanks to Ray.

Unfortunately, Ray had moved down to California to be closer to his dumb, oversized, emotionally-stunted boyfriend.

And Hoosier was left without a partner, which hadn’t been a problem. He found that he actually worked better on his own.

It was all going fine until some guy, with ridiculous curls and a head full of unnecessary information about stuff Hoosier really couldn’t care less about, transferred from Philly to their precinct. There was no question about who he’d be partnered with. Hoosier had cursed the moment Leckie sidled up to his desk, dumb fucking smile on his face and offering a hand out like some pretentious idiot.

Hoosier didn’t need a new partner. He’d been perfectly alright on his own. If anything, his stack of successful cases had risen in the past month.

Sure, he could have complained to Puller but nobody starts up a fight with the boss man unless they really want to be shoved back into line. Hoosier respected the old man. He didn’t need to go starting shit over this.

But with each passing day spent with Leckie, he regrets that decision more and more.

A rustling breaks Hoosier from his thoughts and he peels his eyes from the road to glance at Leckie. The other man has a rather familiar looking snack bar in his hand, and he smiles at Hoosier around a mouthful. He offers the half-eaten bar to Hoosier. “Found it in the side pocket. You want some?”

Hoosier pushes down the anger that flares up, clenching his fingers around the wheel in his hand tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “Fuck’s sake.” he mutters, and Leckie’s smile drops. He looks strangely like a hurt puppy in that moment and Hoosier tries not to ponder over that passing thought. Luckily he catches a car speed past in the corner of his eye and quickly quicks the vehicle into gear, adrenaline overruling his displeasure as they turn onto the highway and begin to chase after the offender.

Leckie claps his hands, throwing the bar down and straightening in his seat. “Alright, finally, some fucking action.”

Hoosier definitely doesn’t smile at that.

“That was some shot you took back there.” Leckie said, dropping down into his seat opposite Hoosier at their desk. A hum was the most response Hoosier gave him, busy typing up the report on their latest case – a hostage situation, some lowlife had kidnapped a college student home from Washington for the holidays. They’d been working on it for a good few weeks now and Hoosier felt a huge amount of relief at finally ending it.

They’d tracked the guy down, Leckie taking charge of the situation they walked in on and trying to negotiate around the guy threatening to shoot the poor girl he held captive. Leckie was doing everything by the book, yet the guy refused to show his hands.

Hoosier wasn’t taking any risks; he pulled the trigger like it was nothing.

The guy dropped dead. All Hoosier felt was a sense of pride, especially when Leckie had sent a look of admiration his way before rushing over to comfort the young girl – who, at this point, was a sobbing mess.

“Seriously, though,” Leckie leant forward over their desk, “what would you have done if you’d missed?”

Hoosier sighed at that, tearing his eyes away from the computer screen long enough to shoot Leckie a reproachful look. He runs his hand through his hair, meeting Leckie’s eyes. “Can’t carry a tune, I don’t know how to shoot a basketball and my handwriting is uh-” he turns to look away for a moment, lips quirking up into a smile as he wavers his hand, “-barely legible, but I don’t _miss_.” He exaggerates the last word, inching closer to his partner and raising an eyebrow as thought to challenge him.

Leckie stands (or rather sits) his ground, tugging his lower lip between his teeth and holding Hoosier’s stare. He nods his head, slowly. “Alright.” he mutters, but he sounds impressed. Hoosier smirks. When Leckie breathes out, the hot air ghosts over Hoosier’s face and he forces back a shiver. He should pull back, put some space between them, but he’s got a hold of Leckie here and he doesn’t want to be the first to back down.

If he tracks the movement of his partner’s tongue over his lip, so what?

Eventually Leckie pulls away, but instead of looking rattled he has a wide smirk on his face – eyes sparkling with mischief. Picking up his pen and sticking it between his teeth, shit-eating grin focused on Hoosier as he flicks his tongue around the tip briefly, Leckie hums deep and thoughtful. Hoosier swears he can feel it reverberate up his spine.

Dragging the pen from his mouth, letting it rest in the middle of his lower lip – plush and pink from where his tongue had just been – he pulls his lip down playfully. Hoosier makes a point of not turning away.

When Leckie speaks again, his voice has dropped an octave – running over Hoosier like silk and _fuck_ Hoosier is going to need a cold shower when he gets home – and he looks knowingly at Hoosier, “I can help you with that handwriting.” Spoken like a true little shit.

Hoosier immediately feels the urge to both strangle and straddle the man in front of him and so he forces himself to stand up, shoving his chair a little too harshly back under his desk. Leckie watches him with an insufferably intense stare, sucking his pen back into his mouth and feigning innocence with his eyes.

“Fuck you,” Hoosier spits out, storming out of the bullpen.

He’s certain he hears a quiet, “Gladly.” but then Runner’s chipping in with a shout about “-domestics taking place, watch out! Hoos is on the warpath.” He rolls his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek and bursting into the – thankfully empty – toilets.

If he doesn’t return to his desk for a good fifteen minutes…well, nobody says anything.

That is, until Leckie strolls back in from the break room with a mug of coffee and a wink. “Better now, detective?” he asks. Hoosier ignores him.

“That was reckless!” Hoosier shouts, shoving Leckie against the nearest wall and towering over him despite being the shortest of the pair. Leckie is visibly shaken but holds his head up with confidence.

“What, like you’re never reckless?” he snides, going to push Hoosier back but failing.

Hoosier snarls, bringing his face up to meet Leckie’s – they’re a hair’s breadth away and Hoosier is staring Leckie down with stern eyes. He’s livid, at best. Downright ready to throw fists at worst.

“What you did was stupid,” he leans impossibly closer, fist clenched in Leckie’s shirt to hold him upright against the brick wall. The officers around them pay no mind, making a start on gathering evidence and clearing up the mess they (mostly Leckie) had made. “Either one of us could have been killed.”

“Yeah but we weren’t, were we?”

“No thanks to you.” Hoosier growls, hovering in place. He can feel Leckie’s breath against his face as he sighs, lips parted. His hair is messed up even more than usual, a result of the earlier fight he’d managed to get into with a suspect. Blood is smeared along his left cheek, oddly enhancing the jagged bone structure of his face.

When the thought of wiping it away flits through Hoosier’s mind, he roughly pushes Leckie away to gain some distance – only feeling a small ounce of guilt when the movement causes his partner’s head to smash into the wall behind him. Leckie winces, but he doesn’t break the eye contact they’ve somehow held for the past… _how long have they been stood here?_

“Yo, Hoosier.” one of the crime scene investigators, he thinks it’s Leyden, shouts from across the carpark. “We need you to go over a few things quickly.”

With a nod, Hoosier takes a step away from Leckie. He doesn’t say anything else, leaving Leckie behind looking dazed and annoyed.

Shelton laughs, kicking his feet up on their couch and taking a sip of his beer. Hoosier gives him a disdainful look but it’s to no use; there’s just no training some people.

“Alright,” Shelton waves his bottle carelessly in front of him, fixing Hoosier with a disbelieving look, “so you’re telling me that you still hate this guy’s guts?”

Hoosier crosses his arms, toeing the leg of the coffee table from where he’s sat on the floor. He shuffles on his spot so that he can rest his back against the couch, far enough away from his roommate’s feet so that he won’t get kicked in the head – intentional or not, there’s no knowing with Shelton. “I didn’t say I hated him.”

His friend clicks his tongue, and Hoosier doesn’t need to turn around to picture the smirk on his face. “’kay, not hate then. But you’re still not even on civil terms with him? I thought I was s’posed to be the awkward one.”

“Yeah, you still are.”

“Ah, shut your face.” Shelton whacks him across the head. Hoosier would complain but then he’s being offered a sip of the guy’s beer so he doesn’t feel it justified. “He’s the one with the curls, right?”

“And the annoying smirk, unhealthy addiction to coffee and incessant ramblings about religion and sports. Yeah.”

“Seems like you pay quite a bit attention to him.” Shelton says. This time it’s Hoosier’s time to land a smack.

“He’s my partner, it comes with the damn job.”

His friend makes a noise that says he definitely doesn’t believe him but Hoosier is too tired at this point to argue any further. He doesn’t pay any more attention to Leckie than he would to anyone else. They’re partners, knowing basic things about them is kind of a inevitable.

“I say you fuck him.”

“What?”

“You heard.” Shelton said, sounding uncomfortably like his mother. Hoosier pushes that similarity from his head as fast as it came. “Fuck him. He’s cute. Definitely gay, or at least interested, and it’ll get rid of your tension.”

“I haven’t got any tension.” Hoosier fights back. “And he’s not cute.” He adds as an afterthought.

“You’re telling me not even a tiny part of you wants him perched in your lap?” Shelton laughs, dropping his hand to tease his fingers through Hoosier’s hair. Hoosier groans, leaning back into the touch and closing his eyes. He doesn’t answer, partly because it’s a stupid question that doesn’t deserve a reply and partly because he isn’t sure what the right reply would be.

The air whizzes next to his ear and Hoosier knows a bullet just narrowly missed his head. If he’d have taken one to the left he’d be a goner. Following the direction of the bullet, he aims and shoots the moment he spots sight of guy responsible. He drops to the floor within seconds.

Leckie’s yelling something at him but Hoosier can’t work out what he’s saying from across the warehouse. There’s a chorus of shouts and suddenly three guys are rounding the corner with guns aimed at them both.

Hoosier screams out to his partner, but Leckie ignores him; charging in front of him with his pistol steady. Hoosier almost can’t watch.

Three bullets are fired. Three men fall down.

Leckie chances a glance behind him and has the nerve to smile as though he hadn’t just taken down three men without so much as a blink of an eye. Making sure they’re in the clear, Leckie saunters back over to him whilst tucking his gun safely away. “How’s that for-”

Hoosier moves before he realises what he’s doing, fist meeting bone with a sickening crunch.

Before Leckie can fight back, Hoosier is yanking him by the shirt and hauling him against the nearest wall. His voice is a dangerous growl, “You dumb, cocky, motherfucking piece of shit! I oughta-” The rest of his sentence is cut off by a pair of chapped lips pressing against his, hands gripping his waist tight enough to leave bruises. It’s rough and messy, blood mingling with tongues but neither man pay it much attention – save for a pained groan from Leckie from Hoosier accidently tilts his head and bumps into his nose.

Hoosier soon loosens his grip on Leckie’s shirt, melting into the body in front of him as the kiss slows into a languid push and pull rather than a fight for dominance. Leckie’s hands slide up from his waist, cupping Hoosier's face with a gentleness that really shouldn’t be allowed from a man that just killed three people (but whatever, Hoosier isn’t going to dwell on it).

“You’re an idiot.” Leckie says between kisses, thumb stroking over the skin beneath his eyes and easing all tension from Hoosier’s body. “Foolish.” He plants another kiss. “Could’ve lost you.”

Hoosier honestly can’t believe what he’s hearing; all memory of almost being hit completely gone from his mind at this point.

Slipping his hand between the buttons of Leckie’s shirt, toying with the hair on the expanse of his chest that he can reach, Hoosier shakes his head. Tilting his head up to brush his lips over Leckie’s again, he sighs. “You’re,” kiss, “the,” kiss, “idiot,” kiss, “here.”

Leckie just pulls him in to another drawn out kiss that lasts long enough for Hoosier to lose sight of where he ends and Leckie begins. The warmth from the body pressed flush against his is comforting and he doesn’t want to pull away any time soon. But they can’t stay here forever, they both know that, and at the sound of footsteps approaching they jump apart – Hoosier straightening his clothes whilst Leckie attempts to fashion his hair into something slightly less dishevelled.

It’s only a matter of time before they’re excused from the scene and racing to Hoosier’s place.

If Leckie walks into the precinct the next day and hands Hoosier a coffee and Hoosier smiles up at him instead of bitching about how he’s late…well, the other cops try not to speculate.

**Author's Note:**

> Pls let me know what you thought xD
> 
> Come scream at me on [Tumblr](https://a-beautiful-struggle-of-life.tumblr.com/)!!


End file.
